


Magic Blades

by lifetheuniverseandeverything42



Series: Mainline [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (sorry), Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Break it?, Elyan Lives (Merlin), Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: s05e11 The Drawing of the Dark, Everybody Lives, Gallows Humor, Good Mordred (Merlin), Humor, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lancelot Dead, Merlin & Arthur Pendragon Friendship (Merlin), Merlin's Neckerchief (Merlin), Minor Violence, Morgana Dead, Morgana Defeated, No Morgana, Not Epilogue Compliant, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Past Torture, Past Violence, Physical Abuse, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Episode: s04e08 Lamia, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Knights (Merlin), Self Confidence Issues, Self-Acceptance, Self-Destruction, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Sacrifice, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), episode AU, hopefully
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23681887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifetheuniverseandeverything42/pseuds/lifetheuniverseandeverything42
Summary: Good Mordred AU; where Merlin asks him to not betray Arthur after Cara's death and in doing so reveals just how much he is hurting and has been hurt over the years… So (after Morgana is finally dealt with once and for all) when Merlin's thoughts - and the actions they bring - begin to turn darker and darker, Mordred is there to drag his secrets - good and bad - into the light. Along with the help of the rest of the Knights, of course. And Arthur, can't forget about Arthur...
Relationships: Gaius & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gaius & Geoffrey of Monmouth (Merlin), Gaius & Gwen (Merlin), Gaius & Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine & Lancelot & Mordred (Merlin), Gwaine & Lancelot & Percival (Merlin), Gwaine & Lancelot (Merlin), Gwaine & Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine & Mordred & Percival (Merlin), Gwen & Knights of the Round Table (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Knights & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Knights & Merlin (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Lancelot & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Lancelot & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Mordred (Merlin), Mordred & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Mainline [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776043
Comments: 24
Kudos: 141





	1. Hurting that you cannot comprehend

**Author's Note:**

> [Warning: I am playing fast and loose with canon!]
> 
> BTW, I don't own Merlin - all characters belong to the BBC. :-(

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're just gonna ignore the last 2 scenes of the BBC's Merlin S5:E11 the Drawing of the Dark...

Merlin's head snapped up as he felt the rush of raw magic flood his senses. Mordred. Without a second thought, he turned and ran back into the castle away from the swinging body in the square. Gwen saw him go, though Arthur did not.

_"Mordred."_ Merlin called within his mind as he raced through the mostly empty halls of the castle.

 _"Leave me alone!"_ Came the sharp reply.

Merlin adjusted his direction as he headed not towards the cells as he had been, but away to the forest beside the castle where he knew now Mordred was.

 _"You know I can't do that."_ He replied solemnly, mentally preparing himself to face the boy he had betrayed yet had to convince _against_ betrayal.

 _"Why?"_ The response was a lament, to more than just Merlin's words but also to the tragedy the young druid had just endured.

"Mordred?" Merlin called aloud as he trekked through the forest he knew now so well.

"Go away." Mordred's voice was choked and strained. Merlin rounded one final trunk and found the druid slumped against an oak in a small clearing.

"No." He told him gently.

"Why not!" Mordred cried angrily, lifting his tear-stained face to glare at Merlin.

"Because you're hurting..." Merlin answered simply, being honest for once.

"Why should you care? You hate me." The boy spat the words at the servant.

"I don't hate you, Mordred." Merlin told him, his heart-breaking.

"Really? Then you do a marvellous impression of hatred." Mordred replied, sarcastic fire dripping off every syllable; and stared with eyes full of tears off into the trees.

"I don't hate you, Mordred." Merlin repeated, Mordred looked back at him - curious despite himself. "I'm afraid of you." he admitted softly, slumping down against a tree opposite from the younger man.

"What?" Mordred frowned, "Why? I'm barely a match for you, even with my training..."

"No, not of what you could do to me." Merlin told him, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes.

"Then what. Why do you fear me, Emrys?" The name that had always before been spoken in near reverence now rolled off his tongue like a curse.

"For what you may do to Arthur." The warlock explained. 

"Arthur." Mordred responded, stunned and hurt. "You're worried about Arthur. Even now, you worry more about _him_! What, if I betray him..."

"Yes." Merlin cut in, sharply "If you betray him now- then _I'll_ have to deal with him." He let a little of his sarcastic humour bleed into his tone - the wrong move.

"Don't joke!" Mordred roared. "Not at a time like this! Have you no respect? No shame?"

"A time like what?" Merlin asked furiously. Mordred only choked unable to speak the words. "At a time like what, Mordred?" Merlin persisted, his voice hard and his eyes harder.

"When the love of my life has been... cut down like an _animal_!" The young man screamed, but his lament stopped short as he laid eyes on Merlin's face across the clearing. "Why are you crying? You didn't know her - could you have stopped this! Is this guilt? Merlin, answer me!"

As his desperate interrogation faded into silence, Merlin spoke: "No Mordred. This day is a dark one but it reminds me of a darker one of my own."

"What do you mean?" Mordred begged with rage adorning his pale features like a storm does the mountains. "My love is dead! Killed, murdered by a man who is no longer my king!"

"Please don't do this Mordred." Merlin begged this time.

"He has taken _everything_ from me!" Mordred cried.

"No, he hasn't." Merlin interrupted urgently, "You can still forgive him-"

"Forgive him! NEVER!" The druid declared, a crazed fire in his eyes being fuelled by his rage.

"Don't let this take your oath from you, Mordred. Your loyalty, your wellbeing, your life; do not need to die as she has... If you can forgive him-"

"NO!"

"Mordred, please! It will take time, I know..."

"What do you _mean_? Don't you _dare_ pretend like you know what I'm feeling Merlin. Has he ever hurt you, truly? He may be a bit mean on occasion, but don't even try to act like you know how I am feeling!"

Merlin could only weep and whisper: "I just want to help, Mordred."

"Get me back Cara then!" Mordred yelled, before frowning and turning in seriousness and earnest to the warlock.

"I can't do that." Merlin held up his hands placatingly, "Mordred, you know I can't, no one can. Don't go down that road, please!"

"Maybe no one else can." Mordred murmured, a dreadful hope blooming in his red-rimmed eyes. "I certainly can't. But you. _You_ can. You are magic itself, Emrys. If anyone can it's you. Bring her back to me, Emrys!

"No." Merlin told him firmly, trying to disguise the wave of increasingly dark memories that washed over him at the druid's words.

"So you do hate me." Mordred answered bitterly, slumping once again against the mossy trunk and hiding his face in his hands.

"I don't hate you, Mordred. Even if I could do what you're asking - which I'm not even sure I can, I wouldn't even know where to start - I wouldn't. Not because I hate you or anything like that, it's just... There are some things that should never be done. You ask the impossible, Mordred. I will not do it."

"You would not save a dear innocent woman from an unrighteous death. Not even for me, Merlin." Mordred gazed through his fingers at the warlock, emotions unreadable in his eyes. "Why am I not surprised? You wouldn't save her even when she was alive, why would her... H-her being d-dead change _anything_." Sobs broke the stale air between them, and Merlin almost wept with him. "Traitor! Traitor of magic!"

Mordred raged, rounding on the other man as he stared at him. "Traitor! Traitor to your people! Traitor to the old ways! Traitor to the druids! Traitor to the Old Religion! Traitor! Traitor!"

"Mordred. Do not call me a traitor." Merlin told him, deliberately blandly.

"You could have saved her!" The younger man wept anew. "Arthur would have listened to you! Even if not, you could have got her out. Out of the cells, out of Camelot. Why didn't you HELP US!"

As his tears flowed and drowned out any further words he could have uttered, Merlin spoke quietly.

"I tried, Mordred. Please believe me. But the penalty for her crime was death."

"Then you should have died a million times over, right? Since when do _you_ agree with the laws against magic, anyway." Mordred retorted, hoarsely.

"I don't-"

"Then _why_ Merlin!" he roared, his anger returning at the forced impassivity of Merlin's expression.

"She was not innocent, Mordred!" Merlin shrieked, all his guilt building up within his like water behind a dam. And the dam was cracking. Mordred sobbed, and Merlin continued more gently. "She committed treason against the crown. And for that, her punishment was death. Magic never came into it."

"You lie!"

"The how doesn't change the what, Mordred. Yes, she used _magic_ in her treason, but it was still treason." Merlin told him patiently, having had the very same argument alone in this forest many a time.

"He is a Pendragon! Just like his father. Heartless and relentless in his destruction of _our_ kind."

"Mordred! You _know_ that's not true."

"He kills those with magic just for their magic! Maybe he would have relented if she had not been a druid, but he did not! For the sake of her magic, she is dead! My love is dead! He took her from me for something she was born into..."

"Mordred. Snap out of it!" Merlin yelled. "You _know_ that was _not_ what happened. Do not let her poison your mind like this Mordred, you are better than that."

"So you hate her as well then. Well that explains a lot. Like why you let her die! Like why you wouldn't save her - not even for herself, but for me. You always hated me, Merlin, but did I not prove my worth and my loyalty? For our kind and for Camelot, much good did it do me. You could have stopped him! You could have stopped him from..." He broke off as his emotions overran him. Merlin sat in silence, watching with eyes like his namesake's. "Cold-hearted betrayal. I should have expected it..." Mordred added, bitterly. "I thought he liked me! Haven't I been loyal, Merlin? Did I not deserve some kind of repayment for that service?" he asked desperately.

Finally, Merlin answered. "I think you're missing the basic point about loyalty - that it is selfless. Given not out of owing or expecting to be owed. Selflessly offered. Loyalty not out of self-interest, but from truth and pureness of heart. And you did, Mordred, you were truly loyal - until you wanted something, and suddenly felt like this was a transaction... That you should get something, for your selflessness that had died."

"Don't give me that speech, traitor! Are you loyal to _him_?" He spat the pronoun like it was a gaia berry, and continued: "Selflessly? Should magic users not count on your support if you will throw them on the pyre for the sake of your _loyalty_!" Another gaia-berry-tasting word.

"Mordred." Merlin began solemnly. "I have lost more for the sake of my loyalty to Arthur than anyone can ever and will ever know. I have lost loved ones, my health and even my life a few times; and would risk it all again just for him. He is half of me, Mordred. Surely you know the prophecy..."

"It's different for you, you are bound to him - like a _slave_. I am not, I will not be loyal to one who has betrayed me." Mordred declared with twisted vigour.

"And you think I have not been betrayed by him!" Merlin cried, despair and disbelief mixing with the old pain buried within him, "He killed the women I loved. Slayed her like a beast because that was all he could see. His blindness cost her her life - I was going to run away with her, you know. Leave Arthur, Camelot and my destiny: for _her_. He took that from me, bound me too him - like a slave, as you say. Because once I had forgiven him that..." Merlin shook his head, his voice breaking, "I could forgive him anything. I am constantly forgiving him, and so many others, for things they do not even realise hurt me... I forgive him, Mordred. Even when that means I betrays myself. Even when he condemns and attacks all that I am, even when I have nothing left because of him..." The warlock sighed, for a brief moment lost in his memories; then he returned to the task at hand and summed it all up with a shrug: "You are not alone in having lost someone you love in this fight."

Silence fell as his painfully casual words lingered between the two men, drifting on the breeze like a feather.

"I didn't realise-" Mordred tried, staring at his hands.

"Why would you?" Merlin cut him off, curtly.

"You saved me." Mordred whispered and for once Merlin was reminded of the small druid boy he had chosen to save. "Back then. You thought I had forgotten?" Mordred looked up and met Merlin's suddenly awkward gaze. "I owe you, Merlin." He asserted; his assumed confidence betrayed by the tremors of his hands.

"No." The servant shook his head.

"If I owe you, you could order me to stay. To remain loyal..."

"Loyalty must be sel-"

"Selfless. I know, you said." Mordred answered, smiling briefly in spite of himself for the first time since Cara's execution.

"If you do not love your king out of your own heart, then that loyalty is false and easily broken." Merlin explained calmly, letting his magic seep into the nature all around him like did as often as he could. Mordred gasp quietly as he felt his own magic flex in response to the soft waves coming from the warlock. "You were loyal to him once, Mordred. Can you not be again?"

"I don't know Merlin..." he admitted quietly, still unsure if he wanted to be return to Arthur's side. He had come to Camelot being loyal to Merlin, to Emrys, then slowly that loyalty had transferred to the king - much as many of the Round Table knight had... "How can you do it? Forgive him, I mean; when he took so much from you."

"He didn't know." Merlin explained in a voice so raw Mordred wasn't sure if he should feel honoured or terrified for hearing it, "He never does, really - he is innocent of my pain. No, it's okay." The warlock held up his hand to halt Mordred's vocal indignation. "I prefer it that way. I shield him. That is my role, in a way. From so much, not just from threats: magical and not. But from the struggle, the strife and... everything else. I could not help him so many times, he had to face loss and betrayal alone. That hurt me more than any knife or arrow or blow in the name of protecting my king and my destiny. Do you see?"

"I see." Mordred answered resigned to Merlin's suffering, but still seething somewhat below the surface. Merlin was so alone; he had always had the knights while in Camelot, but now he could see Merlin couldn't rely on even them. He was in the inner circle, but never fully accepted. He straddled the threshold in so many ways: magical and not, servant and adviser, friend and foe, brother and stranger, fighter and clumsy idiot, jester and protector, a part of a whole and yet alone. "But he knew, he knew how I felt. I begged him and he still.... He knew I loved her, but it didn't matter." Mordred spoke finally, absorbing all that he now understood (or thought he did) about his - friend.

"It did, Mordred, believe me." Merlin begged, distraught hope underlying his every word until despair won out. "But there was nothing he could do... He did try, Mordred, but she would not change her mind - he offered her a chance, a choice, and she rejected it... Do not make the same mistake."

"If he could do that, why couldn't he spare her!" Mordred asked, rage swirling once again with this information - terrible lost hope returning in broken fragments.

"She broke the law - not bent like you and I do on occasion. Broke. She attacked all that Camelot should stand for and had to pay the price. For what it's worth," he added, a single tear rolling down his pale cheek, "I'm sorry."

"Should stand for?" Mordred asked softly, seeking the servant's gaze with his own.

"Well it doesn't always, does it?" Merlin retorted, fiercely returning the younger man's scrutiny - the power in them was unmistakable and Mordred gasped in spite of himself and the tears that lingered in those orbs. "And anyway, the prophecy is not complete. Magic has not yet returned to Camelot. But one day it will, Mordred. I believe that.

"But it already has, Merlin. It has come home."

"What do you mean?"

"You are here, Merlin. While you are at Camelot - while you are _home_ \- I will be loyal to the king. I will be loyal to Arthur, so long as magic remains at the heart of Camelot. So long as you remain here, Merlin"

"What makes you think I'm going anywhere?" Merlin joked, looking away at Mordred's silent apology in his eyes; as he quietly pointed out the servant's suffering.

"I could not do this without you." Mordred whispered.

There was silence in their small clearing, not even a bird or the wind could be heard, then Merlin asked:

"Do what?"

Mordred met his curious and impossibly hopeful stare, and replied with a tearful smile:

"Forgive him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You would not believe how many times I misspelled 'Mordred' while I was writing this chapter.  
> I'm not even kidding! 
> 
> Comments and kudos very welcome! Subscribe to know when I update.


	2. In Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin isn't the only one who knows how to scheme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to quickly sum up:  
> Lancelot = dead  
> Elyan = alive  
> Morgana = gone/dealt with  
> (Because in this fic there is only room for one enemy of Merlin and that is himself! *insert evil laugh*)

** *1 year later* **

**Merlin POV**

Merlin stared glazed-eyed out of his tiny window, out into the bustle of the city that persisted despite all that had been thrown at it over the past years.

He idly wished he himself had the same endurance and preservation.

It was one year today. One year since he changed Arthur's fate, by realising the power Mordred's girl had had and the choice he could make to change that. He had taken a risk – nothing new there – but it had panned out.

Morgana had been defeated. Without the further loss of anyone Merlin loved as well. They – he – had been extremely lucky; Arthur certainly believed so and he didn't even know the half of it. The lonely exhausting years of planning and scheming and sneaking had culminated into one month of sleepless nights and living in a constant state of readiness, his stress levels through the roof; the climax of which was finally watching Arthur drive his sword into Morgana's side and the witch crumpling to the ground at their feet. It had just been the two of them – Merlin had a feeling it would be the last 'solo' quest of his king's. And if when Arthur had gone to the river to wash away his sister's blood and Merlin stayed behind, then the king thought nothing of it. And if Merlin stealthily drew a small (though sufficiently long and sharp) dagger and pierced the high priestess' heart, 'just to make sure'; then sorrow over-flowed him until he felt nothing at all.

That had been 9 months ago.

After all of the sombre celebration, during which Merlin was like a ghost (more than a little paranoid; weeping for his regrets and guilts), the kingdom had settled back into its routine – indeed as had Merlin, on the outside...

Then, at long last, finally, after so so long, after so much time; almost 6 months ago now, Merlin had revealed his magic.

The reaction had not quite been as he had expected. Mostly smiles – the identity of the mystery sorcerer (who had saved Arthur so often and aided in Morgana's defeat) was now known, and Arthur couldn't be happier. Maybe.

The knights had equally accepted Merlin. Something he probably hadn't been as worried about – many of them were not from Camelot and had a much more lenient view of magic; they also were not Arthur.

So, despite the years of lies (which Arthur probably couldn't wrap his head around and so had filed away); Merlin was forgiven his magic.

Was that supposed to make it all better?

Arthur thought he knew Merlin now – all of him. But he was wrong: _of course_ there were things Merlin still kept from his king – Morgana may be dead but that did not mean his brother was safe, from the physical, mental or emotional. So secrets still weighed heavily on them, well more heavily on Merlin while Arthur floated freely like a cloud: his kingdom was safe, his wife was beautiful and loved him (and he her) his brothers were all alive and well. _All_ was well – what could there possibly be to fret about? He thought there was nothing more, nothing that could keep his brother apart from him, nothing that could bring this family he had built crashing down... Merlin however, knew better.

In three weeks it would be Merlin's birth day. He would be around 20 – peasants rarely marked the passage of years as those in the city did, Merlin was lucky his mother knew that he had been born about a month before Samhain but his exact age was unknown. The importance of one's birth day in Camelot was no better exemplified by Arthur's prattish declaration of Merlin's birth day as this particular day, on which it had been (quietly, he was only a servant after all) celebrated ever since – after no more than a month of knowing the young man and following a discussion with Merlin's mother, when he had made the mistake of bringing Arthur to Ealdor (though it had been for a good cause). And Merlin _was_ somewhat grateful, having no birth day to speak of would have made living in Camelot even more difficult than it already was – made him an outsider more than he already was.

**_What Merlin did not know was that also in 3 weeks would be the moment that magic became legal once again in Camelot..._ **

**_Merlin wasn't the only one who knew how to scheme._ **

**Mordred POV**

Mordred watched the Lord Emrys, King of the Druids, Warlock, The First and The Last, The Immortal Flower of Magic Itself, High Priest to the Triple Goddess, Destiny's Chosen One, Merlin, muck out the royal stables with a pondering sigh.

In three weeks, it would be Merlin's birth day – behind his back, or at least Mordred hoped so, an extravaganza had been planned… Including time spent in the forest with just the servant and the Knights and King Arthur like they hadn't managed since Morgana's defeat; and also (as the Round Table knew), to Mordred’s utter delight, Arthur was making magic officially lawfully legal again...

It was to be a day of surprises.

But as he watched the steady shovelling of the slightly older man – his thoughts a tangled web of musings on the past, present and future – Mordred shivered as the sun inched lower on the horizon and he sensed the encroaching of a new age. He physically _felt_ time slow as Merlin looked up at the darkening sky – pure Magic in his eyes as the fingers of one hand absently danced in the early autumn air, weaving a gentle breeze that stirred leaves just beginning to turn yellow and gold, and whisked them about the courtyard beyond. Then the wind died as the light slid from the earth and dusk fell like a heavy blanket. Mordred was unsure as to how long he had stood watching, holding his breath, his eyes fixed on Emrys' face; observing with silent sympathy the way the Magic faded and the weight of Destiny settled once more onto his shoulders that bowed painfully under its solemn, remorseless weight. The moment over and normality restored, the Warlock resumed his wordless work and Mordred quietly left him to his labours; unaware of the piercing blue gaze that watched his every footstep.

Three weeks. Just three more weeks. And then... Freedom?

** *3 weeks later* **

**Gaius POV**

That special day dawned crisp and soft, the gentle light of a golden autumn sunrise drifting in on ghostly wings to caress Merlin’s sleeping face. Gaius stood silently in the doorway, his old weary body leaning heavily against one post as he gazed at his son in all but name. He looked so young, lying there, sound asleep; tranquil – and that was not always a given for Merlin, but lately the nightmares had lessened and they were both able to enjoy the peace that had flowed over the kingdom with the death of Morgana... At the thought of that once sweet girl the physician let out a soft sigh and Merlin stirred drowsily. Lingering just long enough to sadly watch the innocence of sleep drain like water from the young man’s face, replaced by a kind of tight wariness and wearied concentration with the burden of consciousness; before he slipped from the doorway with as much grace as the elderly man could muster – allowing a small smile for the new hope the day should bring, the Freedom ready and waiting to spring itself onto all magic users' shoulders, the new age that was dawning with the bright sun.

Upon re-entering the slight chill of his chambers, Gaius moved sedately to the fire where he had porridge warming. He bent over the small cooking pot and added a dash of honey that he knew Merlin liked but they had not always been able to manage, stirring it one final time – confident it would be ready by the time Merlin rose.

As his ears caught the sound of an enormous yawn, Gaius chuckled and moved the pot off the fire and onto one of the benches. He ladled out a generous portion as he listened to Merlin stumbling about his room to find his clothes and dress himself – a regular occurrence for the two of them.

Then hearing the door crash open, he turned quickly to see the young man stood there (his jacket tangled around his torso, arms in the wrong sleeves, one trouser leg hiked up around his knee) with the biggest grin on his wan face. Gaius helplessly returned it, offering him the piping bowl of porridge and a quiet but cheery: "Happy birth day, Merlin."

Sitting down at the table, his apprentice tucked in – eating with the slow but steady pace of one accustomed to having very little. Gaius watched him for a moment, recalling the somewhat gaunt nature of his ward – especially in winter, or times of stress for the poor lad – before determinedly busying himself with the few potions needed that morning. Merlin was better now. They were all so much better now, and things could only get better after the events due to unfold in a matter of hours. Their future was nothing but bright... Surely?

 _"Oh Mother, Maiden, Crone! Please, let no more suffering befall this boy that you have so blessed and cursed. I beg of you, on this day of celebration for your subjects, let his heart be only glad and joyful. Queen of Magic, please."_ Gaius prayed fervently, pausing for a moment.

Merlin looked curiously over one shoulder at him, with one eyebrow cocked in such a manner that could only be a mimicry of Gaius' own, but the physician simply smiled in response and gestured for him to continue eating. And with an answering smile, Merlin did just that – within minutes Gaius heard the scraping of the spoon against the bottom of the wooden bowl: music to his ageing ears.

Collecting the various potions and concoctions, he handed them confidently off to Merlin as he headed for the door – the pair exchanging smiles (one of the proud parent and the other of the mirthful son) as Gaius murmured his usual: "Have a nice day." But on this morning it was accompanied by a knowing look, that represented far more than Merlin realised...

With a final wave over his shoulder, the young man proceeded out into the castle and the day ahead – first to deliver his cargo and then to serve his king. Gaius watched him go, an unconscious smile refusing to leave his lips, before turning also to his day's work.

**Merlin POV**

Merlin had awoken slowly, relishing in the sound sleep his body had finally achieved in the early hours of the morning, drained and spent after a bout of particularly horrific nightmares involving that old spectre: the pyre. At least his usual silencing spell still managed to save his mentor from being woken by his thrashing...

Shaking off the last dredges of sleep and smiling bleakly as he recalled Gaius' knowing look from a moment ago, he approached the kitchen – weaving his way through corridors unknown to most with the practiced ease of one who could walk them blindfolded. His heart was surprisingly light, even as his mind fretted, for today was a day when everything was different. And who knows what could happen. He suspected there were plans afoot, but he was happy enough to let things happen as they may. Today was his birth day and the earth seemed to be rejoicing. He could feel her, practically singing, beneath his striding feet and out beyond every window he passed; Nature calling, longing to embrace him. _Soon._ He thought desperately, debating if he could afford the lost sleep if he slipped out that night. He knew no one would notice, so what did it matter.

The Warlock sighed. Disappointed at his darkening thoughts as his mind turned against him: didn't he ever catch a break! Today was his birth day, for goodness sake! And so, feeling every one of his (admittedly few) 20ish years; Merlin marched into the king's chambers with his head held high and shoulders set, manoeuvring plates of food and determined to face with dignity whatever this day could throw at him.

And how long would _that_ last?

The Round Table had assembled and Merlin was suspicious.

Not that those two events had to necessarily be affiliated with one another, but neither were they exactly a coincidence...

For one, he had not had to remind Arthur about the meeting – in fact, _he_ had told _him_. Which, again, not enough to cause suspicion as it did sometimes happen – but usually it involved an emergency meeting and judging by the restrained excitement practically radiating from the not-so-subtle King, no disasters had occurred (a miracle in of itself).

Secondly – and honestly the main reason he viewed this morning's events with such distrust – was that he knew they had been planning something for a while now; he had hoped fervently it had nothing to do with the fact that this day (as to his mother's nearest guess and Arthur's ridiculous declaration) was his birth day... But judging by the slight smile inching its way onto Gwen's face and the open grin on Gwaine's, not to mention the rarely glimpsed twinkle in Leon's eye or Elyan's small smirk; this hope was truly dashed.

As they assembled into the Great Hall, Merlin weaved his way unnoticed amongst the columns and positioned himself to watch the King and Queen – catching his guardian's eye as he did so. Gaius was smiling, a little slyly for Merlin's liking and he frowned – puzzled and wary – then swept his gaze across the rest of the hall. His sharp eyes caught the young knight Mordred, with cheeks red and chest heaving as if he had been running, slipping last of all through those huge doors. They locked stares and quite clearly Merlin heard the druid speak in his mind: _"I greet thee Warlock on this the day of thy birth. The very Earth herself celebrates so joyous and momentous an occasion. And my heart is glad to be at thine side, to so do also."_ The formality of the words, which ached with Destiny and druidic tradition, shook him; but the underlying respect – mixed with a little awe, as the knight undoubtedly felt almost as Merlin could the exultation of Nature – made him smile a little. Then the dark-haired man approached, striding directly to him and whispered: "Happy birth day, Merlin." And the small smile exploded into a rare, carefree grin.

"Mordred," Arthur called, in a tone aiming to be formal and kingly but betrayed by his smirk, "If you would take your seat, we can begin."

Mordred nearly rushed to his assigned chair and Merlin supressed a chuckle.

He faded into the background once more with minimal effort, it was one servant skill he had perfected as soon as possible – being highly applicable to his extra-occupational activities. His thoughts caught up in the events of the past year, he was barely listening to the discussions of the Round Table; but then out of the corner of his eye he noticed Arthur stand, and the rest of the hall fell silent.

**Arthur POV**

The King of Camelot was nervous. In all fairness, he was about to announce a major change in the law – turning his back on all his father had taught him and everything Uther's reign had stood for. Not that he doubted it was the right thing to do. With a sad smile, he recalled Morgana's words from so long ago: "Sometimes you have to do what is right and damn the consequences." – how surprised she would be now to find him remembering them in this context, about to legalise magic...

His quiet solemnity was noticed by his wife, who squeezed his hand in encouragement and smiled at him when he gazed at her with what Merlin would call his 'moony calf eyes'. Speaking of the cabbage-head, where was he?

Arthur quickly scanned the room, noticing Mordred slipping in rather late for the usually punctual knight – his attention snagged, he watched the young druid make his way quite purposefully across the Great Hall before he stopped in front of the man Arthur had originally been searching for. It seemed to be a knack of Mordred's, even when Merlin was hidden away (as a servant arguably should be) he could find him – it had become quite useful to himself and the other knights who felt they were constantly searching for their wayward friend.

Pulling himself away from his amusing musings, he cleared his throat and the Round Table assembled - their youngest member joining them after a more pointed prompt – and Arthur gazed out at the group of people who represented all that he (with their help of course) had achieved during his reign, so far that is... Merlin should have been sitting with them, he should be sat at Arthur's side – not hiding somewhere to his right.

The meeting proceeded as planned, discussing a few pressing though tedious matters before he rose to his feet; stately and every inch a King. The hall hushed, and he proclaimed into the void of silence that followed:

"On this day, and all days thereafter, magic is hereby declared legal in Camelot and any of her lands."

The words were important – Arthur knew – and he had strained long into the night to track down the perfect ones.

But at those words so deliberated over, a cry echoed out in the voluminous hall. From amongst the pillars where Arthur knew Merlin loitered, near-invisible like the good servant he pretended so often not to be, a loud sob was heard...

Arthur froze, his brain struggling like a new-born foal to process but Gaius had already stood. Moving far faster than his years, he near leapt from his seat and hobbled hurriedly towards his son; the young man sagged into his mentor and guardian's arms, which locked around him just quick enough to catch him as the weight of all his life was lifted finally from those fragile weary shoulders.

Merlin wept.

He cried and cried those echoing sobs until his voice was hoarse and his face was as red as the cloaks of the knights, who had rose from their places to join their king in staring worriedly at their friend and brother.

At long last, with shaking limbs, Merlin withdrew from Gaius' embrace and stood rigidly to utter the shaky but sombre, quiet words that scarcely carried to Arthur's anxiously straining ears: "My king, please may I be excused."

The King of Camelot's lips parted with words unspoken to his friend, as he nodded his wordless permission to his servant.

Slowly, almost stately, Merlin proceeded to the door – the tiny, half-hidden, discrete, lowly, servant's door – with every eye in the room trained on him.

Silence refused to relinquish her hold.

Gaius, surprisingly, made no room to follow; and when Gwaine stepped forth to do so, the physician stopped him with a gentle hand and a stern frown. Gwaine, also somewhat surprisingly, made no move to resist and spoke not a word as Merlin's echoing footsteps faded away.

Later, when the Round Table meeting was over and all the final details for the law change had been agreed – though not yet signed, Arthur (and the rest of them) had wanted Merlin to be present for that – the King went looking for his servant. Ignoring the looks exchanged among his knights as he left with so clear a purpose and refusing to dwell on the comforting hand Gaius and his Queen shared as they watched him stride from the hall into the maze of corridors beyond.

It probably should have taken him longer to find him. Indeed he did search for some time until Mordred quietly approached him and directed him in a whisper to the tallest tower. The endless-seeming steps left him drained, but his worry drove him on until he reached the plain but sturdy door and slammed it open. His blue eyes scanned the parapet like they did a battlefield until he saw the hunched figure of Merlin, curled up on his side with his back to the solid stone. His eyes open but unseeing and his breath misted slightly in the chill air.

**Merlin POV**

Merlin wept.

In relief, in shock, in mourning and grief, in joy, in sheer jubilation; he wept until his heart was aching and his face was raw.

He could feel the silence pressing down on him, the gaze of everyone trained on him in his vulnerability and barely-contained agony.

Desperately he fled, first seeking permission – for how could he not – from his King and brother.

Then he ran, through the corridors he knew like the back of his hand, running from his fate and his past as much as from his friends.

Eventually, he reached an old haunt of his – a sanctuary discovered during Arthur's regency when Agravaine had plagued his every step, his every word, his every breath – and crumpled brokenly to the ground. All cried out, his body curled inward – protecting itself as best it could from the turbulent emotions raging like a wild summer storm within him. His Magic somewhat calm, strangely so, it cocooned around the fragile frame of Emrys and time stood still on that lonely windswept tower top.

After some unknown duration, but long enough for Merlin's fingers and toes to go numb and his tears to have long since dried on his face, Arthur materialised next to him. Though had not noticed his approach, his Magic seemed to have been expecting him as it immediately expanded with a soundless sigh to include the King of Camelot in its soothing embrace – warming both bodies and souls as it did so.

“I thought you'd be happy.” Arthur muttered under his breath; breaking Merlin's trance as he looked up at him, startled.

“I am. Truly I am, Arthur.” He croaked in reply, earnest but aching nonetheless. Arthur scrutinised his face in the fading light of the late afternoon and frowned.

“Then why–” He trailed off and Merlin bit back a sigh, heaving himself upright to sit with his back against the cold rough stone and his shoulder nudging against Arthur's.

“I had finally convinced myself that this was impossible.” Merlin told him quietly after a pause, “A hopeless dream not worth believing in for the pain it festered.”

At the look of heartbreak that flashed across Arthur’s face, Merlin hurriedly added: “But now, now everything is alright. Everything is _better_ – so thank you Arthur!” He was not sure who he was trying to convince and Guilt rusted both sides of Destiny’s coin.

"Let's go back inside." Arthur suggested after a time, in a tone overtly neutral but with a slight bitterness that sent Merlin into a frenzy of anxiety. He pushed it aside to focus on the sad and sympathetic glances his king kept giving him, annoying in their own way but known to be a sign that he cared. He _cared_. 

Desperately, the Warlock latched onto this thought – an anchor in the internal storm that refused to abate – and the outstretched hand that went with it, hauling himself to his deadened feet and following his King stumblingly back down the tower's steps.

At the last moment, before the door banged shut behind him, Merlin looked back at the cloud-studded sky now beginning to darken with the coming of night and noticed that faintly, scarcely above the horizon, a single star twinkled brightly in a bare patch of the heavens. And just for a moment, just briefly, Merlin felt as if that star shone just for him, just for right now, to comfort him and whisper that he was not alone – his Magic surged quietly within him and he smiled, if a little sadly, and let the door cut off his view of that one spark of hope in an otherwise brooding landscape. 

Even as he turned to follow Arthur, who had paused to wait for him on the stairs, that little spark burned somewhere inside him - nurtured gently by his Magic and his King's declaration of only hours earlier - as finally, Hope returned to Emrys. A new age had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like this! Please do comment and tell me!   
> I'm switching about quite a bit with the POVs here, so let me know if you think this works!
> 
> Also try saying: Open Grin On Gwaine's!  
> Anyone saying: Open Gwin on Graine's?!?  
> :-)
> 
> Have a great day!

**Author's Note:**

> I will be honest, I have seen many 'Monster' Merlin edits on YouTube at this point. Not saying they inspired this fic... But still - they Angsty (with a CAPITAL 'a'). Like literally it was like Imagine Dragons wrote that song as an angsty dark sad version of BBC's Merlin - seriously!


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